1 I thirst, Thou wounded Lamb of God,
To wash me in Thy cleansing blood;
To dwell within Thy wounds; then pain
Is sweet, and life or death is gain.

2 Take my poor heart, and let it be
Forever closed to all but Thee:
Seal Thou my breast, and let me wear
That pledge of love forever there.

3 How blest are they who still abide,
Close sheltered in Thy bleeding side!
Who thence their life and strength derive,
And by Thee move, and in Thee live.

4 What are our works but sin and death,
Till Thou Thy quickening Spirit breathe?
Thou givest the power Thy grace to move;
O wondrous grace! O boundless love!

5 How can it be, thou heavenly King,
That thou shouldst us to glory bring?
Make slaves the partners of thy throne,
Decked with a never-failing crown?

6 Hence our hearts melt, our eyes o’erflow,
Our words are lost, nor will we know,
Nor will we think of aught beside,
"My Lord, my Love, is crucified."